


Written on his Skin

by serenbach



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenbach/pseuds/serenbach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every burn, callus and scar on Bilbo’s skin was there for his sake, and Thorin loved him all the more for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written on his Skin

It was no secret that Thorin had not formed a good first impression of Bilbo Baggins.

He’d looked at the hobbit and all he’d seen was useless _softness_. A soft body that had never known hardship, and soft hands that had never done a day’s work. A heart too soft to follow them into danger and a mind soft from never considering anything more taxing than the contents of his pantry. 

Of course, he’d been proven wrong, on every account, over and over again.

Bilbo had not only followed him into danger, he had literally thrown himself in front of it and he had dealt with the other difficulties of their journey – the bad weather, the poor food and the sleeping rough – with more grace and far fewer complaints than some of the dwarves in his company, even if he never quite got over the lack of handkerchiefs amongst the Company. Thorin also found himself relying on Bilbo’s quick mind and judgment more times than he could count and couldn’t believe that he had once thought him dull-witted. 

He’d also learned, much later, that there had also been grief and lean times in Bilbo’s life before they had met, and while that knowledge would have once filled him with a type of grim satisfaction, now he only regretted that Bilbo had suffered when Thorin was not there to do anything about it. 

And as for Bilbo’s heart, well, it was soft, certainly, but not weak. A weak hearted hobbit would never have stood between Thorin and his would-be murderer, or burgled a gang of dwarves out of the dungeons of the Elvenking, or riddled with a dragon. A weak hearted hobbit certainly would never had forced Thorin’s foolish hand by stealing the Arkenstone, not when Bilbo could so easily have guessed exactly how he would react. 

And though Bilbo had confounded his expectations in every other way, it took a gentle hearted hobbit indeed to weep at the deathbed of the dwarf who had threatened and banished him. And when Thorin unexpectedly awoke to find Bilbo still there at his bedside, asleep with tears on his face, he was nothing but grateful that he had been right about the hobbit’s soft heart.

\-----

Courting Bilbo had taken more restraint and patience than Thorin knew he possessed, first of all simply to persuade him to remain in Erebor (Bilbo still maintained that getting Fili and Kili up from their sick beds just to stare at him with puppy dog eyes until he gave in was a dirty trick), and then to convince Bilbo of the depth of his sincerity and affection was no small task as Bilbo still blamed himself for taking the Arkenstone, no matter how many times he apologised, or heard Thorin's apologies for his own actions.

But it was worth it to finally have Bilbo in his arms as their first kiss escalated so wonderfully, as Bilbo was all but sat in his lap and kissing him like he was the only thing that mattered. 

But when Thorin’s hand crept under the hem of Bilbo’s short trousers, caressing the inside crease of his knee, the feeling of the small raised scar there surprised him enough that he drew back from the kiss just enough to ask “Bilbo? How did you get that scar?”

“Hmm?” Bilbo replied, looking dazed enough that Thorin almost forgot about his question in favour of kissing him soundly once more, but his finger drifted over the scar again, drawing Bilbo’s attention to it. “Oh, that. I nicked my leg jumping over a fence when I was running to catch up with you and the Company. I didn’t even notice until later.”

Bilbo tangled his fingers in Thorin’s hair and pulled him into another kiss, thoroughly distracting him for a long while, so it wasn’t until much later that Thorin could really think about the little scar on Bilbo’s leg, the fact that his eagerness to join Thorin’s company had left an indelible mark on his skin.

Thorin wasn’t entirely sure how that made him feel – somewhere between humbled, guilty and (even more) besotted - but the memory of that thin line splitting the smoothness of Bilbo’s skin lingered with him a long time afterwards. 

\------

In truth, Thorin had not thought that their journey to Erebor had left Bilbo physically changed, aside from the fact he was quite a bit leaner than the comfortably plump hobbit that had set out with them (and Thorin had already resolved to do something about that, when winter had passed and the need for rationing was over).

In every other way, of course, Bilbo was remarkably different – he’d gone from fainting at the mere thought of seeing a dragon to entering a dragon’s lair (three times!) and riddling with it – but Thorin had not expected to be able to read those changes from the marks on Bilbo’s skin. 

And once Thorin noticed one scar on Bilbo’s body, there because of him, he noticed more.

Bilbo would never be a warrior, although he had picked up plenty of rough skill with his little sword in his fights against spiders and goblins, enough that he was no longer a soft-handed gentlehobbit. Whenever Thorin held his hand, he was conscious of the rough calluses on his palm from the hilt of his sword and the scars from the small cuts on his fingers that all clumsy beginners develop. Thorin couldn’t help but remember Bilbo standing between him and certain death, determined even as he trembled in fear as he gently caressed the coarse skin, and quietly promised himself that Bilbo would never have to lift a blade in his defence again. 

One evening, Thorin entered the library to find Bilbo halfway up a little wooden ladder that someone (probably Ori, but possibly Balin) had dug out from somewhere so that Bilbo could access the books whenever he felt like it. This meant that the backs of Bilbo’s heels were at the level of Thorin’s eyes. For the first time Thorin noticed the smooth, shiny skin across the backs of his feet, the burns a legacy of the dragonfire that had licked at his heels as he fled from the dragon he had mocked. Thorin found it difficult to listen to Bilbo’s enthusiastic chatter about the contents of the library when faced with the reality of the reddened skin and the horrible realisation that if Bilbo had been just a little slower; he wouldn’t be with him today. 

The first time Bilbo dozed off with his head on Thorin’s shoulder, the book he had been reading almost falling to the floor until Thorin rescued it, Thorin indulged himself by carefully carding his hand through Bilbo’s curls and ignoring the reports that were a necessary, if dull, part of his duty as king. Bilbo sighed in his sleep and cuddled in closer, and Thorin smiled to himself. That was until his fingers felt a knot on the back of his head, a long-healed wound from the battle that Thorin had forgotten about (although he’d had a lot of his own wounds to heal from which was perhaps why), though the vague memory of Bilbo sitting by his bed with a blood-stained bandage wrapped around his head suddenly came back to haunt him. Head wounds could be dangerous, Thorin knew, and Bilbo had got his in a battle he’d had no reason to fight in. Thorin had already banished him. Anyone sensible would have been far away, somewhere safe. Thorin reflected as his fingers gently brushed against the wound, and not for the first time, that he truly didn’t deserve Bilbo’s loyalty.

\------

The first time Thorin spent the night with Bilbo, he had been thoroughly distracted from their intense and passionate kisses the moment he pulled Bilbo’s braces from his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt. Instead of focusing on Bilbo, on all the things he had dreamed of for what felt like _so long,_ his rumpled hair and hazy eyes and lips swollen from kissing, all Thorin could see were the scars on his body. 

There was a jagged gash on his upper arm (“from one of the rocks in the rapids,”), a puncture wound just below his navel (“from a spider in Mirkwood – don’t worry, I stabbed it before it could poison me,”) a long, curved scar across his collarbone (“from when I fell off the bridge in Goblin Town,”) and, somehow worse than all of those, a deep slash across his hip (“you know, I don’t remember how I got that one.”)

It wasn’t until Bilbo asked, very hesitantly, “Thorin, is everything alright?” that Thorin realised that he had been frozen above him for several long minutes, the only contact between them the very tips of Thorin’s fingers, as if more pressure would leave even more marks on his skin. 

“Everything’s fine,” Thorin said, but by the crinkle between Bilbo’s brows and the soothing touch of his hands on Thorin’s arms, he assumed that he had not been convincing. “It’s just – I didn’t realise that you have so many scars, Bilbo.”

Bilbo stared at him for a shocked moment, before he flushed pink. “I didn’t expect you to find them… off-putting. From how much Fili brags about his I thought dwarves saw them as a mark of pride.”

Thorin intercepted Bilbo’s hand before he could pull a sheet over himself, and leaned down to kiss him softly. “Your scars are signs of strength and honour, Bilbo. The only thing that troubles me about them is that you bear them for my sake. That you were hurt for me, for my kingdom.”

Bilbo gave him that look of mingled fondness and exasperation that Thorin really shouldn’t find as endearing as he did. “Don’t you know that I don’t regret a single one?”

“Bilbo,” Thorin sighed, his heart too full to speak. He lowered his head and placed a suckling kiss against the spider-wound on Bilbo’s stomach. Bilbo gasped and gripped Thorin’s hair, and Thorin smirked just a little before bending his head back to Bilbo’s stomach.

Later, after Thorin had thoroughly investigated all the marks on Bilbo’s skin (and added a few more temporary ones) he watched Bilbo as he slept with his head on Thorin’s shoulder, unable to prevent the fond smile that was tugging at his lips. Every burn, callus and scar on Bilbo’s skin was there for his sake, and Thorin loved him all the more for that. 

But he was more determined than ever that Bilbo would never take another hurt for him, not ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a love_bingo prompt for 'love bite' that went somewhat sideways. It did break me out of my writers block which is the main thing, anyway!


End file.
